Babysitting for Beginners
by InterruptingDinosaur
Summary: Sherlock needs to solve a case at a daycare, and Molly has the perfect ticket in, her niece. Working together, they need to go undercover as a married couple to crack this mystery and avert a national crisis.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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><p>"Sherlock!" a boisterous voice rang throughout 221B Baker Street, belonging to no other than Mycroft Holmes.<p>

"Good lord, Mycroft, it's bad enough that car alarms go off every time you take a step forwards, but must you upset the peace with your shouting as well?" his brother responded rather uninterestedly.

Mycroft stepped into the flat, unaffected by Sherlock's harsh words.

"Good morning, Mycroft," John greeted from the kitchen table. "Mrs. Hudson let you in again?"

Neither of the men needed an answer to that one. Since Sherlock had explained to Mrs. Hudson about Mycroft's government position, and constant surveillance, she had muttered something about her herbal soothers, and had waited hand and foot on Mycroft every time he decided to pay Sherlock a visit.

Mycroft took a seat in a chair across from where Sherlock was sitting. "I expect that you're here to see me about a case," Sherlock said airily. That was all Mycroft wanted these days.

"Yes, but not just any case," Mycroft said whilst admiring his umbrella.

Sherlock snorted. "Spare me your dramatics, brother. What could it be? Another sex scandal in your precious government? You want to know where your secretary's been hiding your sweets?"

Mycroft shot Sherlock an irritated look. "It's a case that I think you might take a liking to." Sherlock looked unconvinced. "We suspect that Morning-Bright Daycare in London has been intercepting military information and selling it to others." Sherlock tried not to show interest, but he didn't stop Mycroft. "I need you to see who has been breaking through the network, and how the information is being spread."

"I don't see why you can't take the case," John said, entering the room.

Mycroft grimaced. "Leg work. Besides, there is a personal issue the Prime Minister needs me to resolve."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Even if I were to take the case for you, how am I supposed to investigate? Where am I supposed to find myself a child to blend in? A grown man hanging around a child's daycare may raise some questions about my intentions."

"Figure it out yourself. Your pay cheque will be seven figures, and even a knighthood if you do it right." Mycroft picked up his umbrella and coat in preparation to leave.

Sherlock shot his older brother an exasperated look. "I'm not interested in that."

Mycroft left his final words and left the apartment. "Do it, or I'll tell Mummy that you're not playing nice again."

Sherlock ground his teeth at his brother's leave.

"We'll figure something out," John said hopefully. Sherlock stood up and started slipping on his coat. "Where are you going?"

"St. Bart's," Sherlock said on his way out, "I need to cheer myself up."

—

Molly Hooper had been excited to see her niece for the first time since Christmas. She remembered Diana being such a sweet little girl. A bit rowdy at times, but sweet nonetheless.

Apparently the "bit rowdy" part was an exaggeration; a slip-up in Molly's memory. Diana was wild from the moment she stepped out of her mother's minivan. Her pigtails stuck out of her head like little handlebars, and her round cheeks were streaked red with juice. Her baby teeth shined like pearls as she excitedly ran to her aunt, tiny legs beating the pavement as she sprinted.

This was the little devil that Molly had to take with work to her that day. She couldn't find anyone to cover her shift, and she'd already promised her sister that she'd pick up Diana that day.

"Aunt Molly, what's this do?" Diana said for the fourth time in the hour after her aunt told her to stop fiddling with the lab equipment.

"That's a microscope, Diana. Please don't touch." Molly was busy trying to finish paperwork for the experimentation of a cadaver without distractions. It was then that Diana stuck her thumb in her mouth and started loudly singing a song about dolphins. Molly was about to tell her niece to stop when the door swung open.

"Sh—Sherlock," Molly stuttered, nearly dropping her pen. "I wasn't expecting you today."

Sherlock stormed in and shrugged off his coat. "I need to see a dead body. What's fresh?"

"Well, let's see," Molly looked down at her list that day. "I—I have one or two, maybe."

"I need to see them both," Sherlock demanded, "and maybe a coffee."

"Who're you?" Diana asked quietly. She had stopped singing, and was now staring at Sherlock with round blue eyes.

"Sherlock Holmes," he replied.

Diana nodded gravely, "I'm—"

Molly cut her niece off with a nervous giggle. "This is my niece, Diana. I'm babysitting her for this month. My sister's on vacation."

Diana wrinkled her nose. "Don't use the word _babysitting. _That's for babies."

"Alright," Molly said slowly, shocked at the brazen nature of her young niece. "Well, I'll show you those bodies now. I have to take Diana to Morning-Bright soon."

Sherlock's ears perked up. "Morning-Bright Daycare?" Molly nodded. He was quiet for a moment. "Forget the bodies for now. I'm coming with you."

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><p><strong>AN:**

More to come! Thoughts and comments are always welcome and appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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><p>Diana knew he was the one from the moment he stepped into the room. Who was she thinking about during the entire taxi ride to Morning-Bright? Why, no other than the man who was sitting next to her. Yes, that's right. <em>Man <em>not _boy_. The moment she saw Sherlock Holmes' steely grey eyes, Diana knew that she was forever done with the juvenile creatures at daycare. She was in love with Sherlock.

She liked the way his white shirt strained at the buttons, and pulled at the torso. The way his hair was perfectly tousled. Even his smell was enough to enchant the four-year-old Diana.

Though, little did the four year old know, her aunt was thinking similar thoughts.

_Why was he so insistent on coming? Could it be that he noticed the new perfume I was wearing? No! Don't be stupid, Molly, he probably just wants to share a taxi. No! That's even stupider! The man's rich! He wears designer suits for crying out loud. Does he want to ask me to coffee? I'm not ready for that. If only I had worn my good bra today. Oh, don't be daft, Molly, you're not going to get that far with him. Him. Just look at him. How can he stand being so perfect? I just want to run my fingers through his hair._

And on these thoughts went between aunt and niece throughout the taxi ride, paid for by Molly. Sherlock was oblivious to all of the admiration. He was intent on figuring out a plan to use Molly and get close to the daycare. He had the child; he just had to keep it. His pale eyes fixed intently ahead, a smell suddenly wafted to his nose. What was that? Freesia and jasmine. Molly was wearing a new perfume. He silently laughed to himself when he remembered that she had dated Jim. Gay Jim, from IT. Sherlock casually peered at Molly and instantly deduced that she had been late for work that morning because she spilled hot coffee on herself. Wrinkled clothing suggested that she had no time to iron. Glancing at her niece, Deena or Dana, he didn't bother to remember, he saw cranberry juice stains on her baby-like cheeks.

It didn't occur to him that both woman and child were staring at him dreamily, and that one of them was hanging onto the barest of hopes that he wasn't gay with his flatmate.

The cab finally stopped outside a brightly painted building— Morning-Bright Daycare.

—

Diana was quickly put into a play group when they entered the daycare.

It was a spacious building that was larger on the inside than the outside led on. The walls were a cheerful shade of yellow, and the wooden floors were stained with various paints and foods. Doors led to a snack room, nap room, staff room, and the loos .Sherlock and Molly stood in the corner of the room designated for parents and guardians to wait.

"I suppose you're wondering why I came with you," Sherlock said in a hushed voice.

"Well—" Molly began before she was rudely interrupted by Sherlock.

"Of course you are. I can see the surprise written all over your face." Molly shut her mouth.

"This daycare is under suspicion of stealing and transmitting military information. My job is figure out who and how."

"So—"

"So I need to use your niece as my ticket to the inside."

Molly couldn't believe her luck. Sure, her niece was being used, but that meant that she would be spending four fabulous hours a day with Sherlock Holmes. Maybe they would get to bond in that time. And maybe, if Molly was really lucky, they would even have coffee together.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a woman walked over to their corner of the room. "Excuse me, but are you Diana's parents?" she inquired at Sherlock and Molly.

"We—"

"Yes," Sherlock said, grinning broadly. "We are."

Molly felt his hand placed on the small of her back. She thought she was going to throw up.

"Forgive me, but I don't believe we've met," the woman stuck her hand out to Sherlock, "I'm Edna Goode, head supervisor."

Sherlock shook the hand jauntily. "And how is our angel?"

Molly thought her heart would explode. She barely reacted when it came her turn with the handshake. Sherlock nudged her back to reality.

"Diana seems to have bitten someone," Ms. Goode said, bringing a sullen Diana forwards, "and we here at Morning-Bright _don't_ tolerate violence."

"Diana," Molly said, kneeling to the ground, "why did you bite someone?"

Diana was quiet, but Molly persisted. "Tell me, Diana."

"He said Sherly looked like a vampire!" Diana cried, pointing a chubby finger at a sniveling little boy across the room.

"Now, Diana, it's not nice to point fingers," Ms. Goode said sternly. "Apologize to the young boy."

"He called Sherly a vampire," Diana repeated, "and if I could, I'd bite him again."

"Go to the time out corner," Ms. Goode ordered.

Slowly, Diana trudged to the opposite corner of the room. She took her time to cross the room, and stuck her tongue out at the bitten boy when she had the chance.

"Well, I'm sure you've heard about our annual student-teacher meetings?" Ms. Goode said.

"No, we haven't. I'm afraid we're quite new to Morning-Bright," Sherlock answered.

"Once a year, I'm required to inspect the homes of the children to see if they are suitable environments. A dinner and interview is mandatory."

Sherlock smiled and pulled Molly closer. "Of course, just give us the date and we'll get right on preparing."

"Diana's interview is next week."

"We'll be ready. And if that will be all, my wife must return to work."

Ms. Goode smiled and nodded. "I'm sorry to be keeping you. It was a pleasure to meet you."

At this point, Molly was close to the brink of passing out. She was nearer to Sherlock than she had ever been— even in her daydreams. She could feel him breathing. But when Ms. Goode disappeared from sight, Sherlock immediately let go of her waist.

"So, she's the one in charge of this operation," Sherlock murmured.

"I—I'm sorry?" Molly had just snapped out of her reverie.

"It's obvious that Edna Goode is the one breaking into the government network. Her fingers are calloused from typing. Her eyes are red from staring at a monitor for hours."

"She could just be single," Molly meekly suggested.

Sherlock snorted. "Unlikely."

He turned to leave. "I'll be back here tomorrow at the same time. Don't be late."

Molly was left slightly swooning, and absorbing the aftershock of her first experience at being held by Sherlock Holmes.

—

**A/N:**

Much love and hugs to all those who reviewed last chapter. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

—

Molly had taken extra care to get ready that morning. She woke up extra early to wash the smell of morgue out of her hair, and applied an extra coat of mascara. She remembered to put on her best bra— just in case anything did happen— a little pink number that was adorned with cute little roses. Molly even took the time to sort through her closet to uncover a purple dress that she had bought back when she did have a love life.

Meanwhile Diana sat on the edge of her bed, swinging her feet back and forth, watching Molly as she applied lipstick.

"Miss Goode didn't let me take home Charlie," Diana whined.

"Hm?" Molly barely heard her niece while she was busy thinking of Sherlock.

"Charlie," Diana repeated. She was referring to the stuffed rabbit that a well-behaved child was able to take home at the end of the week.

"I'm sure that maybe if you hadn't bit that poor boy, she would have given you Charlie much quicker."

"It wasn't my fault," Diana huffed, "he called Sherly a vampire."

"He does have nice skin," Molly said dreamily.

Diana agreed, and the rest of the morning was spent preparing for daycare. When they arrived, Sherlock was already waiting for them in the corner.

"Ah, good, you've arrived."

Molly was flattered by the response to her presence. Did he notice that she was wearing a new dress?

As if he read her mind, "you're wearing a new dress."

Molly blushed. "Yes."

"It makes your skin look pasty. I suggest you stick to neutral colours."

"Okay," she choked. "Erm, do you see anything suspicious?"

"This daycare has Wi-Fi,"

"I'm sorry?"

"There are no computers around, yet there's Wi-Fi. Ms. Goode must have a computer in the back."

Sherlock peered around the room.

"So, I was thinking—"

"I need a coffee," Sherlock interrupted.

"Okay," Molly squeaked, unsure at how she should react at being interrupted.

Sherlock looked at Molly. "Well aren't you going to get it?"

Molly nodded. "Right, yes, of course."

She ran to the coffee shop across the street and fetched Sherlock a black coffee before returning. Molly was in such a hurry to get back that she managed to spill her own green tea on the skirt of her dress.

"You're back," Sherlock said, greedily accepting his coffee without a thank you. "It took you longer than usual."

"Yes, well, that's because I spilled something on myself."

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and grimaced, "You didn't add any sugar."

"I—"

"Could you get me another one? Add sugar this time."

"Get your own coffee, Sherlock," Molly snapped.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"I spilled tea all over my new dress just because you wanted coffee. When I gave it to you, you didn't even thank me. Get your own coffee."

Sherlock blinke., "If you had wanted me to notice your new dress then congratulations, I've noticed it even more with that gigantic stain. As for my coffee, I will gladly thank you when you make it right."

"You—"

"I don't ask you to stay here. I could just as easily ask John to pretend to be my husband."

"Quit interrupting me!" Molly barked.

Sherlock paused, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned back to his mobile phone and ignored Molly for the rest of the session.

—

When the time came for the parent inspection, Molly had not talked to Sherlock for four days. Not that she was counting, but when you liked someone for as long as Molly had, she noticed.

The little explosion at the daycare centre had led to a barrier between Sherlock and Molly that had not been there previous. Molly ceased staying at the daycare after she dropped Diana off, but she noticed that Sherlock would always be standing at the corner, watching and observing while Diana tried to offer him an imaginary cup of tea.

It's not like she had meant to snap like that, she just felt frustrated at being bossed around and interrupted constantly. She had anticipated Sherlock to blink rapidly and choke out an apology— like in the shows she saw on the telly— but no such thing happened. Instead, Sherlock just turned around and carried on as if nothing had happened.

So she just stood, mouth agape, when Sherlock Holmes rang her doorbell the afternoon of the interview.

"You're— you're—" she stuttered.

"I'm here to prepare for the interview," he said nonchalantly.

"And the flowers?" Molly asked, gesturing to the bouquet of lilacs in his hand.

"Oh, these? They're for—"

Diana rushed into the room.

"For me?" she exclaimed when she saw the bouquet of flowers, "You shouldn't have."

Sherlock smiled. "No, they're for the flat."

Diana lost her smile. "The flat?"

"They enhance the environment. The flowers will make it easier to believe that we're," Sherlock cleared his throat, "a married couple."

Molly blushed and rushed to find a vase for the flowers. She had the urge to thank him, but she feared it would give him the wrong idea.

"So, dinner then," Molly said.

"Yes, dinner, I expect that you have something planned?" Sherlock loosened his scarf and unbuttoned his coat.

"Sherlock, about that," Molly began uneasily, "I don't actually know how to cook."

Sherlock blinked, "what?"

"I—"

"I heard what you said. Why don't you know how to cook?"

Molly lowered her gaze. "I usually just order take-out. I don't have anyone to cook for other than myself."

A groan was emitted from Sherlock as he ran his fingers through his hair— something Molly had wanted to do for a while. "What do you have in the fridge?"

"A can of tuna and some expired milk," Molly said weakly.

"We'll have to go shopping,"

—


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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><p>Never in a million years had Molly thought she would ever be shopping with Sherlock Holmes. But then again, she never thought she would be playing his wife either.<p>

Apparently shopping was a new concept to Sherlock since he had looked surprised when Molly asked him if he was ready to go out. He had thought that she would do the shopping, but she had burst the idea when she mentioned that if the shopping would be done by herself, he would be in charge of looking after Diana while she was gone. Since the last time they had been left alone, she had tried to con him into a 'fake' wedding, he hurriedly grabbed his coat.

Molly couldn't believe it, but Sherlock Holmes had never been shopping at the grocery store. She received a blank look when she asked him to go get a trolley. When she inquired about his experience, she was given the _'Are you kidding me? I'm Sherlock Holmes. Everything is a piece of cake_' look. But it was true, Sherlock had never been grocery shopping before. When he lived with his mother, it was the maid who did the shopping in the family. After he moved out, Mycroft had been a frequent bringer of supplies since, before he moved in with John; he would go days without leaving the flat. Even now, Mrs. Hudson or John would be the ones responsible for groceries.

Immediately when they entered the store, Diana wanted to go to the toy section, but Molly told her to be patient as food was the top priority.

"We should get a turkey," Sherlock said, wandering off in search of the frozen meats.

"Hold on, Sherlock, shouldn't we get a ham instead?" Molly asked in one of the rare moments she contradicted Sherlock.

"Why would we do that?" Sherlock asked with cocked eyebrows.

"Hams are already precooked, if you want a turkey you'll have to—"

"I'll have to what?" Sherlock's strong gaze met with Molly's timid one.

"You'll have to cook it by yourself."

So having agreed on buying a ham, they moved on to buy peas and carrots.

"I want a lolly," Diana declared when she saw another toddler cruising by with a giant lollipop.

"Maybe later, Diana," Molly said, peering at the price tags.

"But I want one now," Diana insisted.

"Later," Molly said firmly. "Sherlock, have you made up your mind yet?"

Sherlock was examining the difference between peas with carrots, and peas with corn.

"Aunt Molly," Diana said raising her voice, "I want a lolly!"

"Diana, hush, your mother can probably hear you from where she is."

At the reminder of her mother, Diana bristled and tears started forming in her eyes.

"Waahh!" a cry exploded from the depths of her throat.

Molly held Diana and patted her back, "Shh,"

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, having finally picked the peas and carrots.

"Diana wanted a lolly and I wouldn't give it to her." Molly said, still trying to soothe the crying child. "Would you like to try holding her?" Sherlock looked mystified at why Molly would even offer such a thing. "It might help," Molly said desperately as people were starting to stare.

"I'm not good with children. It would be better if—"

"She really likes you," Molly insisted.

Sherlock finally caved in when Molly thrust the child upon him, refusal or not. Diana instantly stopped crying.

"Now there is a family I'd like to us after," a woman loudly stated from a few feet away. She was with her own husband, shopping for frozen food.

"It's so sweet," she continued, "how the husband helps look after the child too." The woman looked at her husband in disgust. "Why can't we be more like them?"

Sherlock pretended that he didn't hear the woman as he awkwardly patted Diana on the back. Molly blushed and tried to look interested in the peas.

But there was a bright side: if they looked like a family to strangers, they would easily be able to convince Ms. Goode.

—

Shopping ended with Diana finally receiving her much wanted sweets. Though she was already very happy when she had the chance to be held by Sherlock.

Though the first obstacle was over, it then came time to cook the meal. Although everything they bought was easy to make: instant mashed potatoes, frozen vegetables, ham, and a cherry cheesecake, someone still needed to slave away in the kitchen. At first Sherlock had innocently tried to avoid the duty, but in the end, after much begging from Molly, he relented.

The first rule of the kitchen was to remove all baggy clothing. Sherlock shrugged off his jacket, a feat which momentarily distracted Molly as she noticed the buttons of his shirt strain against his chest, and the paleness of his arms as he rolled up his sleeves.

"I said, aren't you going to take off your coat?" Molly finally heard Sherlock as her daydreams were invaded.

Molly nodded and took off her coat. Drat her crazy imagination! _You aren't going to have sex in the kitchen, Molly. There's a four year old in the next room!_

"So shall we get started then?"

It took an effort, but soon the ham was baking in the oven, the vegetables were slowly defrosting, and the mashed potatoes were ready by the stove.

"We should make a sauce," Sherlock announced out of the blue.

"A sauce," Molly repeated, "but I don't know any recipes for sauce."

"But I do,"

Sherlock whipped out a frying pan and began melting a stick of butter; the one stick of butter that Molly dared to own since she began to speculate that she was putting on more weight than she should.

"I didn't know you could cook," Molly said aloud as she watched Sherlock pour milk into the pan.

"My mother taught me when I was young," Sherlock said.

"What was she like? Your mum?"

Sherlock's gaze was distant as he watched the mixture boil. "A bit suffocating once dad left."

"I'm sorry,"

"It was a while ago; I'm not saddened by it anymore."

The word 'anymore' hung in the air long after it had been said.

"My parents divorced when I was fourteen. My mum left my dad for his boss."

"Is that why you seem to lack nerve?"

Molly looked down. It's not like she intended to turn into a mindless ditz every time Sherlock stepped into the room.

Sherlock noticed her expression, "I mean—"

"I know what you meant, Sherlock," And with that, the conversation ended.

Sherlock had meant to say something encouraging afterwards, but he decided that it was too out of character and that it would only cause Molly to get the wrong idea. He stirred his white sauce in deep thought— on the mystery of women— as Molly went to go change into something suitable for the interview.

—

**A/N:**

Much thanks to those who have reviewed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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><p>Albeit, still annoyed by Sherlock's snubs, Molly took care in getting ready. After all, even if her dream of being married to him would probably never come true, she could at least pretend for the night.<p>

After bathing Diana and dressing her in suitable clothes, Molly pulled her own dress out of the closet. It was a little red number that she bought for a friend's wedding years ago. She was surprised to see that it still fit, although it distorted her mother-like appearance. Molly twisted her hair into an up-do and made her way to the kitchen to set the table. There, Sherlock was leaning against the counter, tapping on his phone. He had slipped his jacket back on, and looked—as usual— impeccable.

When he looked up to see Molly entering the kitchen, she had hoped that he would say something about how the dress complimented her hair colour, or at least that she looked good.

"You look…" Molly held her breath. "Suitable." Sherlock cleared his throat.

_Suitable_. Molly was peeved that it was the only adjective in Sherlock's extensive vocabulary that he bothered to use when describing her, but she took it in good grace, and began setting the silverware on the dining table. Not long after, the doorbell rang.

It was time to put on a show.

—

Sherlock put on his act immediately. "Welcome to our home, Ms. Goode!" he cheerfully greeted. "My wife can take your coat."

Molly was too nervous to be irked. She gladly took Ms. Goode's coat without complaint as Sherlock showed their guest to dinner.

After settling Diana in her booster seat, dinner began.

"So," Ms. Goode said, cutting up her ham, "how long have you two been married?"

"They're not married!" Diana giggled at the atrocious idea.

Ms. Goode raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock was quick to grab Molly's hand. "We haven't gotten married yet, no."

Molly was instantly in bliss when she realized that Sherlock was holding her hand. Unfortunately, her palms grew sweaty.

"We're planning to," Molly said, playing along, "after Sherlock gets himself a job that allows him to spend more time with us."

"And what are your occupations?" Ms. Goode sniffed suspiciously.

"We both work at St. Bart's hospital. I work in IT, and Molly's a pathologist."

"Long night shifts," Molly agreed.

"What is your business at Morning-Bright?" Ms. Goode continued to inquire.

"Our dear Diana is a bit like her father, rather unsocial. We were hoping she would make friends at daycare." Molly said, ruffling Sherlock's hair affectionately. If she was going to play along, she would play it her way.

Sherlock could do nothing, but smile and squeeze Molly's hand.

Diana was confused. "But daddy has lots of friends."

Molly laughed nervously. "Children say the cutest things."

Ms. Goode smiled. "And is there any other reason you associate yourself with Morning-Bright?"

Sherlock's eyes darkened, but his smile remained. "We were told by friends that it was the place to go."

"Oh? And who might these friends be?"

"People of great importance, trusted sources. We were told, Ms. Goode, that you were quite good with a computer yourself."

"It depends on the purpose, I suppose."

"The transferring of information."

"Only to those who can be trusted."

Sherlock grinned and rolled up his napkin. "Money is short these days, especially when you work in IT. We're just looking to expand our horizons, and perhaps, you'd like to expand yours too."

"Well, it really depends on how much is expanded."

"Seven times."

Molly was lost in the conversation at this point. She took to busying herself by clearing the dishes as Sherlock and Ms. Goode continued their cryptic conversation. When she returned, Ms. Goode asked a few more general questions, and took to leave.

"But aren't you going to take a tour of the flat?" Molly asked as she handed Ms. Goode her coat.

Ms. Goode shook her head and smiled. "I think I have seen quite enough. Good night,"

After she left, Molly immediately crumpled on the couch. "Do you think she knew? Oh god, I'm a horrible liar."

"It's fine. She suspected nothing."

"Maybe she'll let me take home Charlie now!" Diana squealed happily.

"Charlie?" Sherlock asked.

"Charlie's a stuffed rabbit that someone get to take home at the end of the week." Molly answered.

Sherlock gasped, "of course!"

"What?"

"That's how the information has been transferred!"

"I'm sorry, you've lost me."

"That sneaky woman! Well, I'm sure Diana will get Charlie tomorrow."

"Would you care to explain?"

"Edna Goode places the information inside the rabbit to send home with a child. The child's parents sell the information and split the funds with her. Oh, that's clever! She never gets her hands dirty!"

"Good, so are we going to arrest her now?"

"No, not yet, we need evidence first."

"When will we get it?"

"Tomorrow. I'll be over as soon Diana comes home from daycare."

"Are you sure that Diana will get Charlie?"

"Positive."

—

"Sherly, Sherly! Look! I got Charlie! I got Charlie!"

That was the first thing that Sherlock heard when the door opened to Molly's flat.

"Excellent, let me see it," Sherlock ordered as he took off his gloves.

"Only if you say please," Diana sang. Sherlock looked unwilling. "Say it."

"Please give me the stuffed animal,"

"Charlie is real! Say that Charlie is a real bunny and he's the cutest most precious bunny ever!"

Sherlock sighed. "Where's your aunt?"

"I'm right here!" Molly said, entering the room.

"Tell her to give me the toy."

"Diana, give Sherly the toy."

"Don't call me Sherly!"

Molly blushed. "Sorry, bad habit. I'm afraid Diana's nickname has been rubbing off on you."

"But his name _is_ Sherly."

"Sher-lock," he accentuated.

"Sherly," Diana repeated.

"Can you just give me Charlie?"

"No-o," Diana sang as she skipped into the next room.

"Sorry about that," Molly said apologetically, "she's usually better behaved."

"But I need that stuffed rabbit to see if Edna Goode stored the information inside."

Molly checked her watch, "Her nap time is soon, you can get the rabbit while she's sleeping."

Sherlock nodded. "Erm, your, er, performance last night was… good."

Molly blushed. "Thank you. Um, I thought yours was too."

There was an awkward silence.

"So, after this case is, um, done, maybe you'd like to get some coffee with me?" Molly asked shyly avoiding eye contact.

Sherlock scratched his head uncomfortably. "I suppose, if John's available he could join us."

"Of course." Molly looked down, disappointed.

She breathed deeply and took a leap of faith. "But, maybe, I mean, without John?"

"What? Do you mean alone? Just the two of us?"

Molly nodded, even though she could feel her cheeks getting hotter.

"I—"

"It's alright if you say no. I'm busy, you're busy. You could bring John if you want. I don't mind." She blurted without pausing for breath between words.

Sherlock stared at Molly.

"I suppose it's fine."

Molly's eyes were round with surprise, "Really? Do you mean, like, a date?"

Sherlock looked uncomfortable. "Not a date. I mean, if you're buying."

"Of course," Molly nodded eagerly.

"Uh, good, then. Coffee it is." Never before had the consulting detective felt so awkward.

"Good. Um, I suppose I should tuck Diana into bed and you can get the USB." Molly stumbled to find Diana.

"Diana," she called from the room over, "it's time for your nap."

There was no answer.

"Diana, if you're being cheeky, I'll make sure you won't get dessert tonight. Diana are you listening to me?"

Feeling uneasy, Sherlock rushed into Molly's guest room; the window was wide open and a cool breeze was rolling in.

Molly ran into the room just then. "Sherlock," she gasped, "Diana's missing!"

—

**A/N:** Again, thank you to those who have left comments and reviews. I am trying to reply to all of them!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and story from BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p>They didn't stand around for long since an explosion came from the window only moments after Molly entered the room. Sherlock immediately crumpled to the ground unconscious as blood from the cut on his forehead gushed all over the white carpet.<p>

Molly, who was standing the farthest from the window, was temporarily blinded, but remained conscious. She only realized she was conscious when a voice rang out through the smoke.

"Do you take me for a fool?" It was Edna Goode. Molly was too frightened to articulate. "Even if you both looked like a couple, none of your information checked out. Tell your little consulting detective boyfriend to hide his site before he tries to go under cover."

"I—I—"

"So, the frightened little mouse is awake. You should train your daughter better. She practically gave everything away at the dinner."

"You—you—"

"You—you," Ms. Goode mimicked. "Pathetic. Take them away, Lars."

The next thing Molly knew, she was being tied up by strong man and placed in a car. The unconscious Sherlock was placed beside her. It was then that she started to panic.

_Oh my god, oh my god! What will Thora do when she finds out that I put Diana in danger? Is Diana okay? I'm so scared! What would Sherlock do? What would Sherlock do? _

Speaking of Sherlock, Molly felt something hard poke her in the ribs as Sherlock slumped on top of her while the car took a hard turn. _What is that? Oh for bloody— is this really the time to get an erec— hang on! That's a phone! We're saved! Now, I just have to dial. Nine— nine— nine._

Molly was glad that she was left unblindfolded. She recognized the route the driver was taking.

"We're going to Morning-Bright Daycare," she noted aloud.

"Oh, so she speaks. Yes, we are," Ms. Goode said from the passenger seat, "I'm going to show you exactly what I do people who pry."

—

_What would Sherlock do? What would Sherlock do!_

This was what Molly was chanting the entire car ride to Morning-Bright. She had the police on the phone, she just wasn't sure how to bide her time. Her thoughts were rushed when the car stopped, and they were pushed into the staff area.

"What gave us away?" Molly hurriedly asked.

Ms. Goode snorted. "You said you were married when we first met, yet you told quite the contrary during dinner."

"How—"

"Do you think my organization is elementary? There was a camera in the rabbit."

_Sherlock would do some deducing. What is there to deduce?_

Molly desperately looked around the dark room to find something, but unfortunately, the only thing she could see was Ms. Goode, who was loading a gun by a dim lamp.

Ms. Goode was a stout woman with messy brown hair. Her clothes were wrinkled and out-dated. Her garish sweater looked too large for her, as if it were a hand-me-down. Even her shoes looked like they were beginning to wear at the soles. If Molly saw her in the supermarket, she might have pitied the poor woman. Just then, something clicked in Molly's mind.

"You're doing it for your family," Molly heard herself saying.

"What?" Ms. Goode snapped.

"Your clothes are old, and your sweater is too large for you. You're not being trendy are you? The sweater was handed down to you by someone larger, and you can't afford new clothes."

Ms. Goode sniffed. "Not everyone can afford extravagancies."

"But you're a computer hacker. How can you not be able to afford a computer, but not clothes?" Molly struggled to find the answer.

Just then, Lars entered the room. "Have you finished them yet, dear?" Light glinted off a wedding band on his left hand.

By the dim light, Molly saw Ms. Goode grimace. "Almost, Lars, almost."

Lars left again, and the answer became clear.

"Your husband bought you the computer. But you don't love him. You're going to kill him after you've received the money you wanted."

Ms. Goode smiled a shark-like smile. "Very good deduction, but I'm afraid it won't help your fate." Sherlock's head rolled in his unconsciousness and he muttered something unfathomable. "Men," Ms. Goode began, "disgusting creatures, aren't they?"

"I don't know what you mean, seeing as how you married one, I don't think you know what you mean either."

Ms. Goode laughed. "We all need them, but they're easily disposable."

"I love Sherlock," Molly heard herself say confidently.

"Please," Ms. Goode snickered, "I saw the way he ordered you about. Demanding coffee, forcing you to take my coat. All men are the same."

"Maybe just the men you know."

"Maybe, but that's a great lot of men who have disappointed me. Did you know my father left my mother? Three times before she finally killed herself."

"I don't understand why you have to sell out your country to prove a point."

"The government doesn't care for the poor people. Do you know how it feels to go three days without eating? No one ever thought the daycare supervisor could do it."

"The daycare supervisor still can't," Molly challenged.

"Neither can the pathologist," Ms. Goode said as she pressed the barrel of her gun to Molly's head.

Molly's heart started racing as a shiver of fear went down her spine. This was it. She only hoped Diana and Sherlock would make it out alive.

—

"FREEZE AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

Molly had just squeezed her eyes shut when the door burst open. D.I. Lestrade sprung into the room with a gun in his hand. Another policeman grabbed the gun from Ms. Goode's hand, and immediately Molly felt her chest heave for breath. A policeman handcuffed a shrieking Ms. Goode while another one read her list of arrests.

"We got your call, and we made our way over here straight away," Lestrade said as he rushed over to help untie Molly and Sherlock.

"Is Sherlock going to be okay?" Molly asked as soon as her hands were free.

"Sherlock's fine," Sherlock answered. He groaned and rubbed his bloody temples.

When both Sherlock and Molly were untied, they were ushered to an awaiting ambulance and covered with shock blankets. Diana was waiting for them in a police car, licking a gigantic lollipop. She was fine, completely unaware of the fact that she had been kidnapped. A friendly policeman noticed how worn out they both looked and offered to take Diana home to sleep.

"The explosion must have pushed you onto the ground. You hit your head pretty hard," Molly said, once she had been sure Diana was going to be fine.

Sherlock nodded. They were both silent as the sound of police sirens and ambulances filled the void.

Sergeant Donovan walked by them to get something from her car. On her way back to the crime scene, she paused. "Are you two dating?" she inquired loudly.

"N—no," Molly stuttered, hardly believing that what she had dreamed someone would say for so long had finally come true.

"I wouldn't be nosing around in other people's love lives when yours is so twisted. Bad choice picking Anderson," Sherlock spat back.

_Hang on, did Sherlock Holmes just say "love life." Are we— are we dating? _Molly was so excited, she couldn't speak.

Sergeant Donovan ignored Sherlock. Instead, she bit her lip and smiled. "Maybe you two shouldn't be standing so close to each other. I definitely mistook you for a couple."

Molly tried to stiffly shuffle aside, but managed to trip over her feet. She would have fallen if Sherlock hadn't caught onto her waist and pulled her back to his side. In this awkward process, Molly had managed to let her shock blanket fall from her shoulders. She stood shivering at Sherlock's side before he took notice and draped a portion of his blanket over her shoulders. She was so close to him at that point that she could feel him breathing heavily.

Donovan, seeing the whole interaction, walked back to the scene of the crime giggling and muttering something about how the freak had finally found his match.

Sherlock and Molly were once again left in silence. Standing close to each other, and hardly daring to look each other in the eye.

"Those were, um, good deductions, by the way," Sherlock said quietly as they watched an officer pass by.

Molly blushed. "Thank you, I was trying to be like you."

"Those were, er, good, for an amateur." Another silence passed.

"So, you heard the part where I said that I, um, loved you?" Molly squeaked.

"It may have been something that I heard," Sherlock replied, nodding.

"Would you like to go get some coffee?" Molly asked timidly.

Sherlock glanced at her with a disbelieving and amused look on his face. "You were kidnapped, and nearly murdered. You still want to get a coffee?" Molly grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Do you always fall for sociopaths?" he asked, shrugging the shock blanket off of his shoulders.

"Only if they're highly functioning," Molly said as she stood on her tip toes and kissed him.

—

**A/N:** All done! It was fairly short, but I hoped you all enjoyed it!

A huge thank you to all the reviewers for this story; your critique and encouragement is greatly appreciated.

Look forward to more fanfiction from us in the near future!


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